I was helping My Boy get ready for bed tonight and he grabbed my head and said, “Mom, let me smell your hair.” I was thinking to myself what a sweet moment this was and imagining my handsome boy as a grown man years and years from now at a cafe in Paris telling the story of how, for as long as he lives, he will never forget how beautiful his mother’s flowing golden locks were and how they always smelled of fragrant honeysuckle….or something like that…
But then, when I asked him why he wanted to smell my hair, he replied,
“Because something really stinks in here and I’m pretty sure it’s your hair.”
” Um..yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s not my hair, ” I replied.
“No-I think it is for sure, ” he countered, nonchalantly.” It smells like the stinky onions that were in that weird dinner you made tonight and it’s coming from your hair.”
This wouldn’t be as big a hit to the old self-esteem if last weekend, while getting ready to go out with my husband for the night, The Boy’s reply to my question, “So, how does Mommy look, Buddy?” hadn’t been…”Umm, kind of fancy and mostly good but also kind of chubby.”
Clearly, we’re going to need to work on some things around here or else I’m destined to have a 40 year old virgin living in my basement when I’m 70…
Meanwhile, me and my funky onion hair are going to go to bed.